To Touch the Earth
by Faulty Paragon
Summary: All Riku has ever wanted is to be able to let the rain dance upon his skin, to smell the flowers, to hold the earth in his hands- but, nothing but darkness, emptiness, surround him as he lies chained by his master in Keep. Then, a naïve dancer stumbles across his tower, and their fates are woven together forever. AU Riso, inspired by 'Rapunzel'. Very dark, rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A fic originally written for a contest I participated in (won second place! :D) but I changed it to Riku and the gang. Very dark - rated M for a reason. This is the prologue, so it's a little slow setting the backstory, but trust me when I say that it'll get to action in the next chapter. It's all written, after all ;) Enjoy! RxR please.

A darker take on the fairy tale 'Rapunzel'.

* * *

**To Touch the Earth**

_Prologue_

The attack was fierce.

The caravan's soldiers had struck in broad daylight, as if their victory was so clear that there was no need to conceal themselves. The foot soldiers had struck first, the guards protecting and filling the cages with new game.

Women, and children.

The men of the village were easily overpowered – there was really no point in even struggling, for they were so easily overtaken by the trained soldiers that they fell similarly to flies being swatted away, with no effort needed. So, although they wanted to save everyone, to put an end to this madness, they were powerless.

The village air was thick with the stench of blood, screams and sobs of the dying and captured alike filling the air as the soldiers simply did their jobs and herded who they needed to. It was quite a quick affair, actually – no more than thirty minutes passed until the entire village was either completely packed into the slave cages, or lying face-first into the harsh dirt, never to be buried or to rest in peace.

The children cried soundlessly in fear of their captors, too scared to let a moan slip past their trembling lips. The women were the same – separated from the young ones in the other cages, all the women could do was watch tearfully and remain quiet as the men threatened and smirked and licked their lips lewdly at them. A few of the older ones – they only took women under the age of twenty, slaughtering the rest – simply prayed, hands clasped together tightly and lips moving fervently to the gods. So, with the slaves' lack of words came a heady silence which stung and horrified almost as much as the smell of death and decay and copper which filled the air.

It was just too much.

"Please, please don't-"

The cry had been the only plea muttered in the cages, and the leader of the caravan examined the young boy through the opened door. He had been inspected like a foal for sale for what had seemed like an eternity – it burned his cheeks in humiliation and fear as the guards grabbed him at last and dragged the boy to the most elegantly furbished of the wagons, which was obviously set aside for the owner himself.

The boy continued to sob and cry as the owner looked at him further, interest piqued as he examined the younger's features. The boy was pretty, even with the tears, he decided – quite so. In fact, he quite liked hearing the young voice cry out. The boy's hair was what caught his eyes initially, the smooth, shining silvery strands – similar to his own, but so much more beautiful – begging to be twisted and pulled. And, with practically flawless, albeit tanned skin from working endlessly in the sun, long, fluttering eyelashes and light emerald-teal eyes set over a strong nose and full lips, he also decided that the eight year old was too pretty to be wasted as a slave. The coiling in his stomach told him so, told him that it would be wise to keep this one out of the market and set him aside for his own amusement.

So, he made the guards relinquish their grip upon the boy's arms and pulled him into his 'chambers', ignoring the shrieks and pleads and runny nose and fear as he stripped the child down to nothing but a bare babe and mercilessly turned child into adult.

A quick blow to the head sent the boy reeling into the depths of unconsciousness as the owner finished for the last time, where everything was black and cold and merciless. Yet, subconsciously, he knew to embrace the last dregs of his purity – for the same torture he had just suffered would not end for a long, long time to come.

* * *

He was a handsome man, dark and strong and brooding. Power settled upon his shoulders like a cloak, and magic glittered everywhere from his endless, golden pools of vision to the self-made spidery crown which rested upon his temples. A long, stern nose set over full lips and a chiselled jaw only strengthened his dark image, muscles in his lean body rippling underneath his expensive tunics and breeches.

He was the epitome of beautiful, akin to a god's form. To the outside, he _was _godly – powers which could be rivalled by no man, the ability to tap into the world's life force if necessary to fulfill his needs and desires, and his sheer perfected form made him something to speak of in legends.

His name was Ansem, Seeker of Darkness.

To Riku, however, he was simply 'master'. Never was he allowed to speak _his_ name – it was forbidden, written in magic as part of the rules which he had placed upon the boy from childhood.

Never say his name out loud. Never speak unless spoken to. Never ask for anything. Never try to run away from Keep. Never try to end his own life. And, most importantly, _never disobey the master. _

Riku wasn't his real name. He was Riku, for that name was easy to cry out when the elder hit his peak and shot his seed deep into the child's throat or core every time the mage came for a visit. It was an easy name to say when he carved things into pale skin, when he blindfolded the boy and gagged him and didn't let him see the light of day through even the window. It was easy to whisper it tauntingly in his ear as he carved his name, his mark, his insignia, endlessly into skin by blade and seed and magic.

The boy didn't remember what his real name was anymore – but then again, he didn't remember a lot of things anymore.

Like how the earth felt like. Distantly, the image of fields rested in his memories, hazy and blurred by time and pain. In those faint, distant pictures, long grasses swayed gently among tiny buildings, with little children running around and laughing. Adults worked the earth, growing crops, while the little ones rolled in the mud and shrieked with delight. And he remembered singing, singing songs of innocent play and of love and warmth.

It had been years since he had seen the earth, or felt it underneath his touch. It had been years since he had felt the wind, or tasted fresh air – in Keep, he never really felt much of anything other than cold and wet and stale air.

He couldn't remember if he had been little once upon a time, nor did he know if he was even 'big' right then. It had been eons since he had last seen his own reflection. It was also hard to judge what he really was, considering the fact that there was nothing to compare himself to – well, other than Ansem. And comparing oneself to Ansem was an impossible feat, for there was no way to achieve that level of immaculateness.

But rarely did he see the master. Always 'working', he was told – working to snatch others cruelly away from their own homes and sell them for slavery. Riku understood the concept of slavery. He had had it explained once – it was what Riku was to Ansem, an object to use for fulfilling every whim and want and scrap of need.

Riku didn't know if he liked it when the master was there. It was wonderful to see him, especially after the long, long trips when he went to foreign lands far away from the little tower – for by the time the mage came back to Keep, all the food in Riku's bowl usually ran out. He knew that if he had three mouthfuls a day he'd live, and with the constant supply of rainwater directed into his dish from the funnels outside of his window, he was usually satiated. However, the bowl could only last for so long, and Ansem never allowed anyone else to come into the tower.

It the chains binding his wrists to the stone and mortar were just a bit longer, he might be able to grab some of the dried foodstuffs the mage always left in the chest opposite to his chains, but they were not longer than his forearm, and he was bound stuck. The only place he could really go to was the chamber pot, spelled in order to make what little waste his frail body created disappear the next morn.

Only Ansem could see him. He was too hideous for the rest of the world. And because of that, it would be a lie to say he wasn't glad that no one else came into his tower to ridicule him, to torment him like Ansem said they would. That was why he hadn't built any stairs, opting to simply steal away from his caravans at night and into the tower using his god-given powers. Riku was safe with him, hidden away within Keep, far away from the judging eyes of the rest of the world.

But Ansem, Ansem sometimes called him beautiful, called him wonderful in all his glory as he marked the younger as his. Riku didn't know if he liked the feeling of being used and pounded into whenever Ansem came back to give him more food, if he liked those brief moments of feeling bigger than he really was when the engorged length was within him all the way. He felt stronger when the master was there; bigger, more powerful, with that body flush against his own. It was his only opportunity to taste a higher level of life.

Ansem's favourite part of him was his hair. It was long – he wasn't allowed to cut it, after all. Riku deeply wished he could, but he didn't allow any sharp objects in the room which the boy _could _cut it with. Sometimes, when the mage was angry at him for disobeying or due to a bad deal made with the caravan, he would take those beautiful locks which kept him company and bind his body, leaving him cold and exposed in the moonlight upon the icy floor.

However, every time Ansem came and after he was satisfied, he would brush those never-ending locks with such a tranquil heart that it made the boy weep. Ansem was truly his only friend.

He couldn't deny that it hurt, though. Every time he came to see him, every time he removed the lacing of his dress and dug strong, elegant fingers into the spaces between his ribs (they didn't show on Ansem, which was strange, because the bones jutted out disgustingly strong upon Riku's own meager body), it burned more than anything.

It left deep, purple and blue and green markings all over his pasty white skin, each mark hurting more than the last, each thrust ripping him apart as he pressed flat against the unforgiving brick wall which he was bound to, each insult the elder threw out to his beloved Riku tearing his heart to pieces. And even when he kissed the boy everywhere and called him beautiful again and called him _his _afterwards, tracing that mark he had carved so long ago upon Riku's skin with his tongue and fingers and lips, Riku still couldn't forget the pain.

However, when he was left behind in the morn, it was absolutely unbearable.

He tried to keep his mind occupied, but one could only do so much bound to a wall. His boredom may have been eased if he was allowed to look out of the window – but Ansem made that forbidden. Others might see him, he said, and that would only hurt him in the end.

Riku trusted Ansem. He was the only one the boy knew, after all, who he _could _trust.

So, Riku found solace in singing. Ansem didn't like it when he sang – it was too loud, and someone as _painfully different _as him (so ugly when Ansem saw him and so beautiful when Riku had given what the elder had wanted) needed not to voice out thoughts in such a crude manner. But he liked his own voice – it was sweet, and that sweetness reminded him of those rolling hills he had come from.

There were times when he wondered what it would be like to die. To simply not eat anything in the bowl, to not drink from his dish, to wind his thin little neck up in the chains which bound his wrists and cease to breathe. And, more than once, he had experimented with that curiosity.

But the magicked collar upon his neck, the one with Ansem's blood coursing through the veins left in the living metal, prevented him from trying to make those dreams a reality. The collar had been an addition to his wardrobe when he was eleven. He had tried ignoring the dish, tried succumbing to the sense of eternal slumber where he distantly remembered his family awaited him, but Ansem had found him too soon. Ever since, it was a dark, heavy weight upon Riku's neck, despite it being so thin in reality – the power, linking Ansem back to him, warned the mage if his slave was ever close to his death.

And when he tried again to give up his life, Ansem had teleported into that room with the most evil aura surrounding him that Riku had ever seen.

His body had been broken for days.

So, all Riku could do was sit in his tower, watching the golden sunlight enter the small room and tell him when the days passed, his only companions the sunlight of day, the darkness of night, and his own voice sweetly singing sorrows inside Keep.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Part 2 of this story. Here's the introduction to the other players! Let me know what you think. Enjoy and RxR!

* * *

**To Touch the Earth**

_Voices_

The strings played, the trumpets and the harp weaving together so beautifully in the strangest of harmonies as the song built erratically into the climax. A leap, a bound, a flourish of the hand, and the tip of a hat caused the grand dining hall to erupt into waves of cheering.

"Bravo!" "Encore!" "Fantastic!" The endless compliments from the onlookers poured in as the man straightened, a smile in his eyes behind the sea-green and turquoise jeweled mask despite the sweat beading upon his brow and the heaving of his chest. No matter how exhausted he was, he had to agree with the crowd – that _had _been one of his better performances.

"Absolutely wonderful as always, Heart-wielder," a deep voice boomed from high above him.

Raising his eyes, the dancer bowed deeply to the man who stood upon the balcony before him, clapping his great big hands approvingly. The dancer grinned behind his mask foolishly, although no one could see it, for pleasing this man was greater than any other accomplishment. The man's crown gleamed in the evening torchlight, but to the dancer, the thin, practical gold band was not even necessary to dictate the man's role in the kingdom – his shoulders were far too proud, broad, his aura too commanding, his voice too majestic to be anything other than His Majesty himself. It was the first time the king himself had ever attended one of his shows – to say that he was honoured would be a disturbing understatement.

The dancer bowed yet again to show his appreciation for the king's comment before lithely bounding offstage, ignoring the catcalls coming in from the commoners on the floor and the nobles from above. He skipped down the hall backstage, arms remaining stationary by his sides as he passed servants to stagehands alike, all of whom gave his rambunctious applause for his performance. By the time he had reached his tiny closet of a dressing room, his shoulders and upper back were getting sore from the amount of hands clasping his shoulder or clapping him on the back proudly.

With a tired, yet gratified sigh, he finally slipped into his private room, letting out a short cry of surprise as he saw the man who was awaiting his return. "Lea!" he cried in shock, laughing breathlessly as the surprise wore off.

"You were fantastic," the elder murmured appreciatively, helping the dancer remove his overcoat and sweat-soaked linen shirt while handing him a fresh set of clothing. "I told you the king would be pleased. He has long wanted to see you, ever since I told him of you."

The dancer unhooked his mask and allowed his damp hair to fall out of its pins, the dark brown locks covering his eyes momentarily. He accepted the clothes with a word of thanks and immediately changed into them, not caring to cover himself – Lea was like an uncle to him, as his long-time dance instructor and benefactor.

Lea sat down on the stool and watched the younger affectionately as he began to recount his feelings during the performance, eyes tracing down every feature. Large, glittering blue eyes smiled animatedly at him down a gentle, pointed nose, leading to a wide smile, perfect teeth flashing as the younger giggled and laughed at the thoughts of the audience and the king.

When the younger was finally finished cleaning up, Lea stood and hooked one arm around the younger's waist, placing a chaste kiss upon the dancer's forehead. "You really are beautiful, Sora," he murmured lovingly, nuzzling against the other's damp hair. "Thank you for existing for someone like me." He kissed him once more upon the cheek before letting go and exiting the hall. "I'll see you at home."

Sora watched the other go with rapidly saddening eyes as the realization hit again. Tracing the scar upon his left collarbone, the 'Heartless' symbol as it was called (and the inspiration for his stage identity) as he always did when he was anxious, a wistful sigh escaped his lips.

_How do I tell the man who practically raised me, _he thought, fingering the glittering mask he had used for the performance past, _that I was not made by the gods to love him?_ It wasn't that Sora didn't love Lea, no (Sora would gladly die for the man, and then die a second and third time, if it could help the man who had saved his life from slavers when he was a child) – it was just that he was the beloved authority figure in Sora's young life; nothing more, nothing less.

It didn't help, knowing that Lea's former lover had happened to be the spitting image of Sora – he had seen the portrait the elder carried around with him, a tattered old thing. But even in the faded ink, Sora could see the shining eyes, the boyish, youthful face in the picture, reflecting his own. After all, Lea _had _saved Sora claiming he was Roxas's reincarnation.

He wished he could be that person Lea wanted. Lea was perfect in every way – just not for Sora. And that fact broke his heart every day.

The tolling of the clock tower pulled him out of his saddened thoughts. _I've still time before I must return home, _he thought cheerily, forcing his mind away from the guilt which threatened to eat his soul. _I'll go exploring today. _

Recently, the young man had been possessed by wanderlust, causing him to leave the capital grounds and head into the forests which surrounded it to explore the wilderness on a daily basis. So, with an energetic smile, he exited the theatre and began to leave the city once more, seeking out a new adventure for the day.

The paths to the mountains had yet to be crossed by the man – these roads were never taken by many anyway, as the lack of vegetation upon the slope lent it little use for nobles and commoners alike. So, he decided to follow those roads for once, giggling delightedly as he was instantly greeted with the promise of difficult climbs.

An hour up the mountain path, just at the foot of the great rock, the path had been blocked by a pile of rubble and shards. _Most likely the work of mages, _he thought disapprovingly. Still, he began to clamber over the mess agilely due to his amazing physical condition.

Yet, just before he continued up the mountainside, the glimmer of light caught his eye. Turning back to examine the rubble more closely, a slight gasp escaped his lips as he peered into the side of the mountain where the rock had fallen from.

It was dim, but it was there – faint light from a tunnel of some sort, hidden by the multitude of fallen rocks, shone through the piles of stones. Sora excitedly reached into his travelling pack, pulling out a pair of leather gloves from Lea and beginning to remove the debris which blocked the entrance.

The man was panting slightly by the time that the blockage was clear from the tunnel enough for him to slip through. The man managed to squeeze through the gap he had created (although, he realized, Lea was going to kill him for covering such fine clothing with so much dirt and grime) and found himself lying down in a narrow tunnel, barely wide and tall enough for even someone of his smaller stature to crawl through. Still, he persevered, and began to worm his way through the tiny passageway.

It took what seemed like hours to Sora for him to finally poke his head into the sunlight once more. The entire passage had been on a downwards slope, so as he finally tumbled out and landed against soil and grass, he nearly wept in relief to be out of such a stomach-twisting angle. Dusting himself off as he stood, his lips let out an involuntary gasp as he took in his surroundings.

Barren.

The people of the capital had not been lying when they had stated that this mountain was free of life – he stood in a valley which was nothing but mere rock and scraggly bushes. Nothing moved – not a leaf stirred, nor did any animals leap or scurry about. The entire place reeked of nothing but decay and isolation.

And strangely enough, within the center of it all, was a tower.

His curiosity had always made him one to be brash – so, without a second thought, Sora started at a jog towards this mysterious pillar of existence.

As he approached it, doubts began to cross his mind. Why would someone build a tower in a deserted place such as this? The stones were a ghastly grey, with vines creeping up the sides menacingly. It was nothing but a mess of brambles, the leaves a lifeless, greyish olive, standing stark against the dark mortar. He shuddered just from the look of it.

By the time his feet had brought him all the way to the base of the tower, his mind was made – he would head back immediately. Something about it was off, from the way that there seemed to be no door leading upwards, to the fact that other than one tiny window, nothing else allowed any chance for life to be within the hollow cage.

However, just as he spun upon his heel to leave back through the tunnel, a faint sound in the distance caught his attention. Startled, the man turned around, glancing at the barren rock which encompassed him – however, there was nothing there.

Listening more intently, he quieted his breathing as he would before a performance began and stilled his anxious heart, waiting for the sound to reach his ears once more. And, after a moment of silence, it emerged from the nothingness surrounding him once more.

A voice, singing. "Beautiful," he breathed, eyes wide in confusion and awe. For, the sweetest voice he had ever heard sang, muffled slightly within its confines. He immediately backed up, tilting his head to look up at the window from whence it came.

The tower.

Instantly, the man was running around the building, searching for any indication of a passageway leading upwards. However, his search was fruitless – the more he looked, the more it felt like each brick blurred into the next, the shadows caused by creepers smothering it all into a sea of darkness.

And, just as suddenly as it had begun, the voice stopped.

"Is anybody there?"

No response came, and no more singing followed.

Sora waited. He waited until the sun was about to reach the end of its journey for the day, until the last rays of light possible allowed him to see. And, when the voice failed to reappear in his ears, all he could do was let out a sigh and go back home. Lea would be waiting for him.

But he would return.

* * *

Riku was frightened of this mysterious visitor, this voice which rang muffled from the outside of Keep. No one had ever dared venture close to his tower, to his safe zone – why was there a man outside?

If Ansem found out, he didn't want to know what the mage would do.

So, he lived the upcoming days living in sheer terror. During this time, he ate less, drank less, slept less – it would be a lie to say he wasn't thankful that the master had taken the caravan off the mainland and down to the southern islands in order to fulfill his quota. That way, at least by the time he came back to visit Riku, this voice would no longer appear.

However, the stranger came again. Although he had never heard another male's voice during recent times, the timbre of it reminded him of his own voice – different, of course, but the same semblance of youth.

The next visit was two days following the first, and, just like before, he had simply been singing. It was a song he had dug up from somewhere in his memory, from the times when he had lived upon those rolling hills underneath the gentle sun. It had been easy to recall, even if its significance had long been lost upon the boy.

But this time, instead of calling for a reply, the man sang along.

Riku's voice had faltered when that man's own, gentle voice had floated up to intertwine with his. It was faint, but it was there. This man's voice was muffled by the walls of the tower, but still managed to carry over into perfect harmony with his. So even if he didn't know the words, the melody rang true, making tears spring into the slave's eyes as he realized that maybe the both of them were lonely. There was no other explanation for the innate sadness in their voices.

He also knew that from then on, that that voice would always be the sweetest thing he would ever hear in his entire life.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here's chapter 3. I know this story is really morbid, but trust me when I say it's getting to some actual relationship-forming! Enjoy, RxR :)

* * *

**To Touch the Earth**

_ Meeting_

Sora knew his voice wasn't the greatest – there was a reason why he had pursued the path of a dancer, rather than a singer. It wasn't a terrible voice – a little strained as it went higher, and more than a little unrefined due to lack of training. But he went ahead and sang along anyways, for as he heard the most beautiful, lonely melody in the world leave the lips of the tower's occupant, he couldn't help but want to accompany them.

It was on a whim, to start, and he heard the boy inside falter in surprise, but something just urged him onwards. And, after a moment to collect himself, the voice shot clear through the tiny window above once more. The melody was an old folk song Sora had heard when he was young – Lea had often travelled, taking Sora with him as a child, so he had heard music from all across the land.

_Who is he?_ The question ate at his mind as the final verse came to a somewhat empty closing, the note hanging upon the bitter wind which blew, sending his cloak into a frenzy around his body. With a resolute frown, he looked up at the tiny window and the creeping vines which had made their home all the way up the tower.

_I want to see who he is._

Without a second thought, the man ran forward, grabbing the vines which had stuck their tendrils deep in between the cracks of the base. With nimble fingers, he hoisted himself upwards, letting out a sigh of relief when the vines held his weight.

_No turning back now, I suppose._

So, he began to climb.

It took more time than he had anticipated, but he had to be thankful for his lithe form. Due to his dance, his muscles were more than capable of holding his weight as he travelled higher and higher – even when the vines began to thin out, and he had to resort to simply finding finger holds in the cracks of the wall, he only felt a mild burn of exertion. He was thankful for being a dancer, indeed – otherwise, he would have fallen to his death long before he reached the tiny window.

But reach it, he did, after an eternity of scrambling upon the uneven surface which was the tower wall. Fitting his hand inside the window ledge was a welcome relief, to have such a large hold. A sense of security washed over him as he pulled himself up for one last time as his knees slid onto the thick window ledge.

Due to the fact that he was blocking the sunlight from entering the tiny room, he was practically blind upon initial entry. It smelt strange in there; musty, stale, cold. His fingers brushed the stone walls, and he cringed internally as he felt a thin layer of what felt like slime (most likely moss or mildew) upon his fingertips. Wiping his hand on his clothes fervently, he quickly moved out of the way of the sun's rays in order to examine the contents of the room.

And as he did, as he saw the face of the man who had been singing with him, Sora felt himself fall against the wall and let out a mind-numbing scream.

It – he, the singer, he had to be the singer – he was a _skeleton_.

At least, Sora _thought_ the figure was a boy, based on the lack of any breasts underneath a dirty plain white, completely indecent tunic (it only went past his bottom, leaving pale, stick-like legs exposed – he had never even seen that much skin from another man before). The main thing causing his doubt towards the gender of the figure, however, was the fact that hair was ridiculously long.

But that gaunt face was the worst – it made the other boy (thinking about it, the voice belonged to a boy, of _course_ this had to be a boy – but how?) seem almost inhuman.

Aquamarine eyes with emerald flecks, glinting as the sunlight hit them, stood out from his face, sockets sunken in due to starvation. His cheekbones were sallow, clear through the taut canvas which was his pale, sickly skin, his lips nothing but cracked, colourless contours with a faint tinge of pink upon them. His nose was strong, unsettlingly so upon his wasted face, jutting out unbecomingly.

The boy's throat was tiny, bearing a thin bejeweled choker of gold heavily upon the tiny surface, the ornament dipping in the front to hang a large pendant. Collarbones stuck out from the skin, ribs in the same pathetic state as they peeked through the painfully light fabric that was his scrap of a shift. Sora felt his cheeks flush painfully bright as he realized that the other boy wasn't wearing anything underneath the cloth, not even a loincloth.

And his _hair_. It was long, so long that the mess of silky silver (how it managed to remain so beautiful when he himself was so obviously sick was a mystery) was braided and looped on a ring high above his head, the thick coils too far to reach when he stood up. It was as if the ivory mass formed was a rope wound against the hook jutting out from the stone wall, and not a braid. It was unbelievable.

But quickly, concern overtook those thoughts. Those skeletal hands were bound to the wall opposite to the window, leaving the boy slumped against the wall in terror. A food dish with a few meager scraps – and, judging by the smell, they were going bad – and a water dish to his left, right beside the wall, were the only things around the tower's inhabitant other than a chamber pot, which looked empty.

This boy was _dying_.

"Hello," the dancer murmured, carefully approaching the other. He fought to make his face happy, to mask the sheer terror at finding this boy in this condition. "I'm Sora."

The chained boy whimpered with those impossibly wide eyes of his baring holes into Sora's very soul as he watched the stranger approach. "M-master," he whispered in fear, his voice tiny just like that malnourished frame. "Master, please-"

"Don't be scared," Sora pleaded as he finally crouched down before him. "I'm a friend. I won't hurt you."

"Master, if master sees-"

Sora's forehead creased in concern, the man crossing his arms as he rested upon his haunches. "Your master?" he murmured quizzically, cocking his head to one side in confusion. "Where's your master?"

"Gone. Working. He'll come back." Closing his eyes to avoid that curious gaze, the sickly boy whispered fearfully, "If he sees you, if he comes back, he'll be angry. He'll be so angry." A tear escaped shut eyes as he took a long, shuddering breath.

Sora's heart turned ice cold as his eyes finally fell upon the bruises which, although fading, mottled the other's body – arms, neck, legs, everywhere. And, in that moment, it was clear what this boy was being kept in this tower for.

"What's your name?" His voice was kind, but trembling – he didn't know how to speak to this boy without letting out tears of his own. It was just too terrible, too pitiful, and he had no idea how to stop it.

The answer came after a good minute of silence, the break between words hanging heavily in the air, making the man restless. However, at last the boy said, "Master… says I'm Riku."

"Riku," Sora breathed. With slow movements so not to startle the other, the man shuffled forwards and smiled at him. "That's a nice name."

"Master named me Riku."

"Oh." For some reason, that fact irked him, but he didn't show it, continuing to smile instead. "I'm Sora."

Something about his smile must have disarmed the boy, for slowly, the trembling shoulders stilled and he turned eyes to face the dancer, confusion overtaking the fear at last. "Sora," he repeated slowly, as if savouring the taste on his tongue. "Sora."

"Yes," he encouraged brightly. "I'm a friend."

The malnourished boy shook his head. "Master is my only friend. He told me so."

Sora stopped to think about that statement. "Your master is your only friend. But, wouldn't you like to be friends with me, too, Riku?" The words are slow, deliberate – he didn't exactly know why he was saying them, but it felt like the right thing to do.

The boy shook his head once more. "No one else wants to be my friend," he murmured pitifully, crestfallen.

"Is that what your master told you?" When he nodded, the dancer's fist clenched unknowingly. "Well," Sora explained gently, "that's wrong, because I would like to be friends with you, too."

A bewildered gaze shot up at him, wide with surprise and shock. "You don't hate me?" The boy's voice was of utter disbelief.

Sora's heart fell to his stomach as he replied, "Of course not. Your master told you that everyone hates you, other than him, didn't he?"

There was something so childlike in the way the chained boy nodded, his cracked lower lip sticking out so pitifully, that Sora couldn't help but reach out to him. With careful movements, Sora rested upon his knees and pulled the boy into his embrace, trying to ignore the immediate return of his tremors. "Well, I think I like you a lot, Riku," he said, voice hoarse as he tried to contain the sadness welling in his heart. "Have you even seen the outside world? I think they would love you a lot, too."

"No, Master said they would hate me," the other stubbornly stated. "They would hate me and try and hurt me. That's why he keeps me here, in Keep." In a much quieter, much less assured voice, he added almost to himself, voice rising in pitch slightly, "I'm safe with Master."

But the bruises around his body, the pain in his eyes, the starvation – it all said otherwise, and they both knew it.

"You know what, Riku?" Sora chuckled, trying to break the solemn mood. "I think your voice is absolutely lovely."

At that, the boy stopped shaking once more to say, "I'm not allowed to sing with Master. He says it's ugly. But," he pulled away from him, looking up with those painfully large, doleful eyes, "it's not to you?"

His voice cracked often, the pitch sounding strange – and Sora realized that this was probably the most this boy had ever spoken in a long, long time.

"No, it's not. It's _beautiful_."

With those heartfelt words, Riku smiled, and Sora promised himself that he would do whatever it took from then on in order to see him smile again – if Sora had to come to the tower every day in order to do so, then so be it.

* * *

_Keep_, as Sora learned that the tower was called, slowly became like his third home – the first being Lea's house, the second being the stage. As time passed, he became more and more accustomed to the ghoulish building which was the tower. Its charcoal grey walls made him feel confined, scared to the bone – but no matter how much he wanted to get out, he endured it.

For, as time passed, Riku was becoming better.

His 'master' (Sora never actually found out this man's name, only able to figure out that he was some sort of mage and mages were people Sora had never really liked) was gone to the islands down south, and would not be back upon the mainland for months – so, until his return, Sora was free to come and go as he pleased.

During those visits, Sora did a lot. It took a long, long time for Riku to truly feel comfortable with him. Although the frail boy had no strength to push the dancer away whenever he brought him in for a hug, Riku slowly stopped trembling in his arms, instead accepting his embraces with a tiny smile. It took more than just a few visits, but the progress was there.

However, Sora's main goal in life seemed to be feeding Riku. Ignoring Lea's raised eyebrows and curious glances as Sora shoved as many different delicacies from the marketplace into his pack, Sora continued to bring the other boy different things to try, day in, day out. Riku could barely handle more than a bite of each food, for his body was so unused to eating so often (a fact which made Sora flare up in anger uncontrollably and punch the wall, effectively ruining his hand for a few days and halting performances) but Sora finished everything the other couldn't.

And Riku loved it – loved the texture of bread and the sweetness of pastries and fruits and even the dull flavour of vegetables or rice. It was all such a treat, for he had survived off of scraps of dried foodstuffs which his 'master' left out for him each time before he was left behind. The dancer couldn't help but tear up sometimes when he saw juice dribble down that gaunt chin and the boy would slowly shoot him this wholehearted smile, because it was truly then that he could see how deprived Riku was of normal life.

And Sora wanted to take him away from there so, _so_ badly.

He tried breaking Riku free. During his third visit, he brought tools with him in order to attempt in taking off the shackles upon his wrists. However, no matter what he did, they were indestructible – it didn't matter if he smashed them with a hammer or tried to pick apart the bolts holding it together, the chains on Riku's wrists wouldn't budge.

So, instead of that, he tried teaching the innocent young man of everyday life. He spoke to him of the marketplaces, of the vast seas and the depths of the forests, the magnificence of mountains and the emptiness of the plains. He spoke of school, of working every day, of the palace and its politics. He laughed and explained the passing of seasons, the touch of rain and the kiss of sun and the embrace of the wind. Riku listened intently, always asking questions (although it took him more than a few sessions to get comfortable with the idea that he wouldn't be reprimanded for speaking) and he eventually began to grasp the world beyond the walls of Keep. Sora was an animated soul, easily painting a picture of bustling cities and quiet landscapes with his mere words and voice.

He danced for Riku, too. Sometimes, when they had exhausted things to talk about, the prisoner would begin to sing. Instinctively, Sora would dance, performing for the other boy with just as much fervor (if not more) as when he performed for the King himself. It delighted Riku, and that fact itself drove Sora to continue no matter how exhausted he was.

"Why is your hair so long, Riku?" he asked one day.

Riku shrugged, leaning his head against the dancer's shoulder. "I don't know," he admitted. "Master likes it like this."

Sora cocked his head at the vague answer, but smiled again a moment later. "Well, one day, we'll cut it off."

"Why?" the other boy ried, turning to him in horror.

"Because, silly," he replied, laughing, "that way, you can truly feel the wind in your hair."

Watching teal eyes glitter in amazement at the prospect, Sora finally realized – his protectiveness towards the other had long since turned into something more. He was going to get Riku out, no matter what it took.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I feel a little bad for these guys, but oh well! This was, after all, meant to be the Disney tale 'gone bad' if you will. Paopu and scattered memory lines - you know the ones ;) - from the original game's script.

Enjoy! RxR please.

* * *

**To Touch the Earth**

_Attempt_

Riku began to crave for freedom.

Never before had he ever wondered what the world beyond Keep really looked like. Ansem had spent so long telling him how dangerous it was, and how he would never have a place it in peacefully. So, to hear all these extravagant stories from Sora – who just couldn't lie, and Riku knew it – made him want to be out there, to feel the sun on his face, to dance in the rain.

As Riku watched the other speak each day, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to go out into the world, out of Keep, and see all of these amazing things that Sora spoke of. And, if possible, he wanted to do it with Sora by his side.

There was something beautiful about the man. Although he had never experienced beauty himself other than with Ansem, Sora was something special. The way that his eyes lit up when he was laughing and the way his lips pulled back into that completely trusting, sincere smile when he spoke to Riku sent shivers down his spine. It was a completely different feeling from when he was with Ansem – with his master, there was always that tinge of fear making everything more terrifying, more painful.

But with Sora, he was safe.

There were no rules, no unspoken guidelines that he had to follow in order to not suffer the dancer's wrath. _Sora has no wrath, _he thought to himself, allowing the man to feed him a strange set of nuts he had brought to taste that day. _All he does is make me stronger. _

It was true. Riku could physically feel the changes Sora had brought to him, not only in mind, but in body. After two months of his visits almost every day, he could now eat full meals. His body always felt warm now, filled out, instead of feeling disgustingly hollow and bony. His ribs were no longer that visible, and his arms and legs were becoming stronger. The shackles (which had always been a tad loose on the boy's bony wrists) were finally becoming fitted.

And his face – that was the most magical part of all. When he had met Sora, he had always wondered why his cheeks were so prominent – but now, whenever Riku saw him and smiled, his own cheeks would be the same way.

Of course, it was all just speculation on his part – that was, until, Sora hugged him one day out of the blue and whispered, "You're beautiful, Riku."

Never before had those words been so sincerely said to him, and he knew it. After all, Ansem had always told him that when the boy had satisfied him. Sora said it out of the blue, just because he felt like it. Just because he believed in it, heart and soul.

Riku wanted Sora to stay there by his side forever.

* * *

"Have you ever heard the legend of the paopu fruit, Riku?"

The boy shook his head slowly, carefully, as he searched through all of his newfound knowledge to find any mention of this mysterious fruit. For a moment, an expression of panic appeared upon his face when he realized that the knowledge was nowhere to be found, his eyes shutting tightly, as if expecting a physical reprimand.

A gentle hand upon his hair calmed him down instantly – Sora's warmth had that effect upon him, which Riku didn't understand, but loved all the same. "It's a sweet legend," Sora began. "Somewhere out there, in this world, there exists this star-shaped fruit."

A smile quickly appeared upon Riku's face, as fresh fruits had very quickly become one of his favourite foods. "Is it tasty?"

Sora laughed at the innocent curiosity. "It's not just supposed to be tasty, it's supposed to be _magical_."

And the magic was gone, replaced by trembling shoulders and a flash of fear. Sora quickly realized his mistake in association with the mage, and cried out, "Not bad magic, Riku! It's warm, it's kind-" stumbling over his words, he finally calmed himself down enough to say, "-when two people share a paopu fruit, their lives are destined to be intertwined forever. They can laugh, and explore, and _love, _ and despite all obstacles, they will find each other. They'll remain a part of each other's lives, no matter what!"

With that, Riku visibly relaxed, a small light reappearing in his eyes. "That sounds…"

Continuing his brushing motions upon Riku's silvery, beautiful hair (how he longed to run fingers through that hair, but the coils hanging above of the gossamer threads were too tightly bound to really relish the feeling fully) Sora whispered, "I'd like to share one with you, Riku."

Riku had never smiled so widely in all his life.

* * *

Sora had thrown up the moment he left Keep that day.

He had managed to make it back to Lea's lavish home by the time the sun set that particular day. Instead of greeting the elder, however, he simply ran to the privy and retched again until his stomach could heave no more.

"Sora, are you ill? What's the matter? What's going on? Are you sick?" Lea feverishly rubbed the younger's back as he sat on his knees, hunched over the privy hole painfully. After an eternity, Sora let himself fall back into the elder's embrace and be carried to his bed, his eyes glazed with tears and shame.

"Sora, what's going on?" Lea whispered, handing the younger a small cup of water to wash his mouth. The younger didn't reply, taking the cup without a word as tears began to spill down his cheeks.

"What do I do, Lea?" he whispered at last, voice tiny and pitiful and childlike. "What should I do now?"

And with that, the dancer burst into tears, letting his tears soak Lea's shirt as he sobbed the entire story out – Keep, Riku, and the abusive life the captive boy had lived for all these years.

Finally, Sora's voice disappeared into his shirt, abruptly cutting off the explanation. Lea murmured, "You're holding something back from me, Sora. I can tell."

Shaking, Sora disagreed, but Lea's quiet but persistent wheedling finally forced the man to lie on his back, letting out a deep sigh as the elder sat upon the edge of the bed, forehead creased and eyes troubled.

"I asked him why that mage keeps him there today," he whispered at last. "I've never had the courage before, but today I asked, and – and –"

"And what did he say, Sora?"

Sora's full lips wobbled as he answered, "That mage rapes him. Every time he comes back from his 'work', whatever he does, he rapes Riku like a doll and leaves him behind again."

Lea's blood ran cold as realization kicked in.

"And-"

"There's more?" the older indignantly asked.

"And the worst part of it all, Lea," he cried, covering his distraught face with his hands, "is that he doesn't even understand what it is, or what the significance is. I always had the feeling that he was being kept in there like a toy, but never to this extent. I thought he understood _something _about it all…"

The elder urged him on, so he continued after taking a few deep breaths, "He told me that he has to make that mage happy in order for him to be nice to Riku, and I didn't understand what 'making him happy' would be like – so Riku explained what that bastard did to him." Axel's face was ashen with shock as he proceeded to explain every single disgusting, vile deed that the captor had ever asked Riku to do.

"I had to explain to him what that action was," Sora finally said. "I had to explain the importance of it, how you're supposed to make love to the person you love, how what he's doing is torture. I had to _tell him what a monster his 'master' is, what Riku's lost. _Do you have any idea how much that killed him? How much it killed both of us?"

After taking a shuddering breath, Lea whispered, "You've got to get him out."

A heartbroken, choked sob escaped his throat. "I can't," Sora whispered. "I tried, but nothing breaks the shackles, _nothing."_

Lea reached out to grab his shoulders, staring at the younger straight in the eyes. "If you love him, then you'll fight for him," he said firmly, completely serious. "Don't make the same mistake I did."

Sora's heart fell as he saw how sincere Lea's words had been. "I'm sorry I can't return your love," he whispered, looking down in shame.

His eyes softened as Sora let out a tear, and the elder pulled his chin up to look the younger in the eye. "I've long since known," he admitted with a chuckle, "that I'll never have your heart, Sora. I've just been selfish – but now that you have someone, I won't keep you here. I'll help you to be free."

"Thank you," Sora breathed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you."

"But," Lea added as an afterthought, leaning in close to Sora's tearstained face, "at least let me have this." And with that, he pressed his lips against Sora's full ones, moving tenderly against the unresponsive other before releasing him at last. "Sorry. Wanted to do that and then move on."

Slowly, Sora let out a quiet chuckle, which eventually turned into a hearty laugh. "You'll always be one of my most important people, Lea," he murmured honestly. "You've raised me to be _me, _after all."

Lea grinned sadly. "You're always welcome here. You'll always be my little dancer, got it memorized?"

But, before the tender moment could continue, in an instant his demeanor changed. Out of the blue, his expression became hard, his voice firm and authoritative. "Get ready to leave. Bring your tools and a weapon. I'll go ask the maids for a shift, a sweater and an extra pair of undergarments."

"Why?"

The man smirked darkly. "I can dance just as well as you, Sora – even better, most likely. With me wearing your mask, no one will ever know you're gone. Roxas'll be helping me, afterall," he added, softening momentarily again before commanding, "We'll get him out tonight, and then we'll have the both of you on horseback by dawn."

* * *

Getting to the tower took a bit of effort on both their parts – manoeuvring through the tiny tunnel in the mountain's face was nothing short of absolutely horrifying in the dark, as the men slowly crawled their way through the minute passageway. Thankfully, they managed to make it through, and before they knew it Sora was pulling himself upon the window ledge while Lea awaited his return with Riku below. The younger man had brought a rope which they were going to use to lower the other boy down from the window. It was all planned out.

That was, however, until Sora's entry interrupted Riku and a stranger making love in the streak of moonlight which entered the window.

His stomach lurched as he saw the innocent boy's legs spread wide open, the short shift he wore pulled up over his head until it hung from the chains binding him to the wall. His hair – that thick, braided coil which Sora had always been so confused about – was undone, instead wound around his ankles so tightly it was clear the boy wasn't able to move without pulling his own hair out. His face was swollen, a mess of bruises and cuts digging into his skin, lips bleeding and torn, eyelids puffy from tears, shame and pain as blue and purple mottled them both until he could barely see.

And then, there was the 'master' he had always spoken of, his back facing Sora as he thrust his engorged length repeatedly in and out of the smaller boy.

Terror filled Sora's heart, black and vile, eating away his courage into nothingness as the man finally reached his peak, convulsing deep into the boy, the only sounds his panting and groans as he rode out his release. And, only a few moments later the man stood to his feet, fussed with his clothing (he wore a long cape, blocking Sora's view, which was something the dancer was more than thankful for) and slowly turned around, a wicked smirk upon his lips as if nothing – and yet, everything at the same time – had just occurred before Sora's eyes. Sora reached for the dagger he had brought, which hung upon his belt sheathed, but his gaze was drawn to Riku's exposed body once more.

How beautiful it was, and how dirtied this man had made it, as Sora watched his seed leak out of Riku's core.

"So," the man murmured loftily, making Sora cringe as the power in the man's words overwhelmed him into a frozen state, "you're the bastard that defiled my Riku."

It was difficult opening his lips, as suddenly his entire body felt like it was made of lead – completely immobile. "I did nothing to him, other than save him," Sora hissed, wishing desperately inside that Lea was there with him to make him feel safe. This man's eyes were like pits of darkness, melting with the shadows and making him feel caged.

_Is this how Riku's been treated his entire life?_

"No, you _did _taint him, in fact," the mage replied airily as if they were having but a simple conversation in the streets. "You ruined him – he used to be the perfect little slave – and now, you've ruined it all."

"He didn't do anything-" the boy behind them sobbed, only to be shut up by a swift blow to his side.

The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "See? He used to be so quiet, so obedient. Never said a word until I asked. But now," his voice darkened menacingly, and even in his frozen state Sora shivered at the evil which echoed from his voice, "he's _useless."_

And with that, the man snapped his fingers, eliciting a guttural scream from Sora as the bones in his left leg instantaneously shattered within their fleshy confines. It was shattered.

_Dance. _The word flitted through his mind momentarily as the pain numbed all the rest of his senses.

"No!" Riku screamed, but the mage simply struck him once more into silence.

"So, this is all you amount to?" the man taunted, circling Sora like a beast circles its prey. "This is pathetic." Turning his gaze to Riku, he added, "I would've thought you would at least chosen someone a bit stronger. Then again," he said slowly, "you always were quite _stupid_ for a slave."

A slave. Riku was a slave.

This man worked in, and most likely owned, a _slave caravan. _It all made sense – why Riku didn't remember his own name, why he would be locked up here in a tower.

He had _bought him, taken him away from his home, when he was just a child. _

That was why he was so childlike. That was why he didn't know anything anymore, even though he had told Sora that he had in fact lived in the tower for only half of his life.

All the scattered pieces, the far-off memories – they were finally coming together to paint a reality more horrifying than anything that Sora could have every lined up before.

Anger bubbled up iron-hot underneath his skin. Was this the life that Lea had saved him from, all those years ago? When he had been but a child, he had been sold to slavers, and branded with the very heart insignia upon his collar which now defined his stage identity.

But Riku had never had a Lea to save him.

Enraged, the man managed to break out of the wordless spell the mage had cast upon him and grabbed his dagger, swinging towards the man.

But with another snap of his fingers, Sora howled in pain once more as his right leg snapped as well.

"My name is Ansem," Riku's captor drawled, leaning in close with that face full of contempt and satisfaction. "Remember it well, for I am the one who will send you off to the next world. Quiver in fear, should you ever hear it again. And learn this well – never, _ever _touch what is mine ever again."

And with that, he flicked his wrist, the wave of power sending the sobbing man out of the tower window to fall to his imminent death.

"Sora," Riku sobbed, struggling against his bonds. "Please, Sora, don't-"

"And _you, _my child," Ansem hissed, turning back to face his captive darkly, "after all of my years of kindness this is how you treat me? By being with another man?"

"Please help him," he shrieked, fighting his shackles more as the mage approached. "Don't hurt him anymore, _please._"

Ansem laughed, the sound short and harsh in the musty air. "He's already _dead,_" the man whispered in his ear, grinning in satisfaction as Riku let out a strangled cry, a sound so purely full of sadness that the elder couldn't help but relish in it. Never had he heard such a strong emotion from his pet.

But there was no point thinking about it now, about making him scream like that more often. "You've looked at another man, so you're no use to me anymore," Ansem commented idly, reaching down and placing his first and middle fingers on top of eyelids forced closed. "I like things to be my own. It's a shame, really – you're the second one of my favourites to end up leaving me."

_The second one?_

"But, I might as well prevent you from being unfaithful like this to your next master. Pets should never seek other toys."

Applying a gentle pressure to Riku's eyelids, Ansem cackled in sick amusement as tears of blood rolled down the boy's cheeks, sockets nothing but hollow caverns where orbs had once been.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: The last segment of 'To Touch the Earth'. Thank you to all those who has stuck with it so far, and I hope you enjoy (and not murder me for) the ending!

Enjoy, read and review please :) See you in my other stories!

* * *

**To Touch the Earth **

_Reunite_

The wagons were exactly like Keep, Riku thought – nothing but a cold cell, stale and musty and holding him within its confines forever. The walls did feel a bit differently, admittedly, but he couldn't identify whether they were made of the same stone that his former jail had been.

Without eyes, after all, it was hard to tell much of anything in the world.

No one bought him – he could tell how frustrated the guards were getting, having to suffer bargaining with prospective buyers only to be left in the dirt once they find out that he was now blind. In the real world, he was utterly useless without his sight – it made sense to think that he was being rejected like defective merchandise. To begin each deal, the buyers never knew about his disability, as the blindfold which seemed a permanent addition to his face was hiding the emptiness in his face.

A part of him was thankful, however. Now, he could feel the joy of movement, even if it came from a little wagon following dozens of others in the slaver's caravan, even if it was nothing but a long train of death and despair. At least he could feel movement like Sora could.

Sora. The thought of him, the most wonderful creature to ever impact his life, made Riku weep. He had died because of Riku, and never would he forget that – the sweet brunet's face, contorted into a look of sheer pain, shame, and regret as Ansem had pushed him out of the window, falling to his death.

At least one thing had truly gone the way Sora had promised. The endless braid he had once called his own had been slaughtered, cut raggedly until it fell unevenly against his rapidly thinning shoulders. It was… light.

After four months of being cooped up in the cell, however, at last, a voice called, "You're being bought, boy. Get up."

Riku's heart dropped to his stomach as he felt a burning sensation upon his skin. _The sun, _he thought absentmindedly, but it didn't register as wonderfully as he always had thought it would be when Sora had described it.

Nothing was that wondrous without Sora to be there, experiencing it with him.

The voice of the guard which had been assigned to his wagon (he had been placed into solitary confinement, a punishment from Ansem) instructed him on how to exit the tiny space. Taking short, wary steps, he managed to stumble his way down the steps and onto the cool ground underneath him. It was warm against bare feet, stinging his skin, which was so unused to enduring such heat.

"Are you sure about it, my lord? This one's blind as a bat, practically useless." No answer was given. "Alright – payment?" the guard muttered, and after a moment and the clinking of metal, he was shoved forward into someone's arms.

"That's your master. Listen well, _bitch,_" the guard cackled as the person he had been bought by began leading him away.

They walked for a few moments before Riku was wordlessly picked up and settled upon a seat high above ground, his feet dangling off. Instantly, he reached down to grab at something, anything – but the only thing he found was short hair, smooth and silky underneath his weak fingers.

_A… horse, _he named slowly, feeling the bunching of muscles as the creature shifted its weight. Sora had spoken of them once.

His new owner pulled themselves onto the horse's back to his right – presumably, in front of him – and pulled Riku's arms to wrap around the person's waist. It was a man, the disoriented boy realized, from the way his owner's hard muscles felt underneath Riku's hold. Hesitantly, the slave clasped the man's tunic tightly, and the creature below instantly took off into a gentle trot.

The sensation of bouncing seemed to last forever, a time in which not a single sound other than the clopping of hooves was made. However, eventually the ride came to an end, just as the boy's bottom finally became numb from the abuse of being thrown up ever so slightly every time the horse took a step forwards. The man nimbly jumped off and pulled Riku down as well, gently setting him upon the ground.

After an eternity of silence, he whispered, "What would you have me do, master?"

The man chuckled, stroking his hair in a way that felt painfully familiar. "You have three tasks," the man explained with a strangely nasally, awkwardly low voice, as he grabbed Riku's hands and gently pulled the boy across the ground – it was strangely uneven, cold despite the heat, with little somethings tickling his feet and bending underneath his weight – until he sat Riku down upon some form of stone. "The first one is to accept your new name."

"New name?"

"You were named by your old master, and so your old name belongs to him. So, I'll give you a new name: Kadaj."

The boy nodded slowly, empty sockets cast downwards as he repeated this new name to himself. It was strange, but he didn't mind it for some reason – it was the way that the stranger said it, how his voice lilted upwards in such a warm manner that Riku wanted to cry.

However, he wasn't prepared for the next motion, as the man reached behind Riku's head and removed the blindfold which had rested upon his face for months. "Your second task is to never call me 'master' – call me by my name."

The boy's head shot up, despite him not being able to see this new man. "But – but-" he spluttered.

"Listen to me," the man commanded, and instantly, the boy shut his mouth, qualms and all.

"And the last thing," his new owner murmured, "is to stay by my side for eternity, and to see all the things you've missed in life with me." A small object was pressed into his hand, and Riku felt the soft flesh of a fruit – it seemed to have been eons since he had tasted one with Sora, he had almost forgotten the texture. However, this one felt different, the skin smooth and the fruit itself oddly shaped. Setting it upon his lap, he carefully traced his frail fingers along the edges of the fruit, forming a picture of the form in his mind. Five separate dents and points in the circular fruit coming together...

_A star…?_

With that, the voice clicked into place with his memories, and Riku reached his hands upwards to touch the face he had known so perfectly once upon a time, throwing the paopu aside. "Sora?" he breathed.

The other laughed lightheartedly, his tone instantly changing from that fake, strangely low baritone to a familiar, lilting tenor. "Wow, I see how little faith you had in me! Thanks a lot, Riku," he teased.

Riku could only throw his arms around Sora's neck, sobbing uncontrollably into the front of his tunic. "I thought you died," he wailed. "I thought Mas-Ans-_he _had killed you."

"My… _friend_ had been waiting for me, and when I fell, he bandaged me up and took me back home," Sora explained. "I've been useless for the last few months – but the moment I became well again, I started looking for you. Just couldn't dance without knowing where you were!"

Riku nuzzled into the other's neck. "Sora," he whispered, tears of joy spilling continuously from his empty sockets. "Thank you."

Sora laughed, the hearty vibrations making his heart flutter as they moved into his body. "Riku – no, _Kadaj – _I promised you, didn't I? That I'd show you the world?"

The silver-haired boy let out a weary giggle, sniffing one last time before resting his upon the dancer's chest. "You really came," he breathed, letting exhaustion take over him. "You really came."

* * *

The pair was silently enjoying their embrace, savouring the scent and feel of the other. Sora's fingers wouldn't leave Kadaj's short hair alone (the man couldn't stop commenting about how wondrous the other looked, free of those locks), and Kadaj's arms were wrapped tightly around Sora's torso, hands clutching at Sora's cloak. The dancer murmured of his plans for them, how they were going to go back to meet Lea – Sora's benefactor and best friend – and how they would one day travel all around the world, trying to make up for everything Kadaj had ever missed.

Sora couldn't dance anymore, he admitted – the breaks in his legs had been grievous indeed – but he was with Kadaj now and no matter how sad he was about the loss of performance, it was all okay because they were _safe._

That very idea was something heaven-sent itself.

But then, as night fell and the shadows began to grow, a strange, familiar pull upon Kadaj's gut sent him into a state of shock. Stiffening, her breaths became shallow and ragged, the hands fisting his cloak holding so tightly the skin could have ripped off her knuckles.

"Na- Kadaj, what's wrong?" Sora cried, letting go of the boy to look into his wild, frenzied face, the hollowed sockets frighteningly sunken in the dusk. "What is it?"

A choked gasp escaped his lips in the form of one word: "Him."

And, as a hand grasped onto Sora's shoulder, sending a wave of pain rushing through every nerve, the voice of their nightmares murmured, "So, you're the fool who took away my toy."

Shrieking from the burning sensation attacking his body, Sora immediately fell to his knees, eyes scrunched closed in sheer, mind-numbed pain – however, it quickly subsiding, the hand releasing him at last. A low chuckle resonated in the air, the sound making the man flush with anger and disbelief. What in the world was _he _doing here?

"He's not yours," Sora spat once he had recovered enough from the mage's attack to breathe. "He's mine. I paid in full. You got your money."

Ansem let out a quiet tut as he gracefully approached Kadaj, who by then was nothing more than a shivering bundle of fear crumpled upon the ground. Kneeling down beside him, a small smile pulled at the mage's lips. "Lift your head, Riku," he murmured seductively.

But, for the first time in years, the boy didn't obey.

"Lift your head!" the man barked, and this time, the jolt was enough to make him sit straight, empty eyes leaking tears endlessly. Bringing a hand up to caress his cheek, Ansem murmured soothingly again, "That's my boy."

"Don't touch him," Sora growled, stumbling to his feet. "He's _not yours anymore._"

Ansem spun around, his dark, bottomless eyes empty despite the catlike grin which pulled at his sculpted features. "He's not mine?" he mused, stepping towards Sora menacingly. "You dare say he's not _mine_?"

The former dancer bravely lifted his head. "Leave. We've moved on from your disgusting folk."

The powerful mage's voice rumbled lowly in the back of his throat before the laughter erupted violently into the night sky. "What are you talking about? He'll _always _be mine!" With that, the man pivoted and pressed his index finger upon the bare skin exposed between the blind boy's collarbones. Black vines of magic, tendril-like and evil, snaked up his arm and into the boy's powerless body.

And then, Sora saw it.

The mark. The insignia, the one which Ansem had placed upon him when he had first decided the silver-haired boy to be his, the insignia which bore the endless sting and flame of his touch, his tongue, his essence – it shone under Ansem's presence, lingering where the pendant of the boy's old golden choker had once rested upon his neck. It was a devastatingly dark red, the twin loops spiralling into each other endlessly, a pattern so familiar to Sora he could barely believe it.

A thorny heart, matching the one which was branded upon Sora's collarbone.

The former dancer slowly pulled down the rim of his cloak, peering at his own version of the marking with trepidation. _It can't be, _he thought to himself, gears slowly turning in his mind – but there was nothing to disprove his conclusions. After all, although the mark was much more noticeable upon Sora's skin normally, the proof of it was still there, right before his eyes.

Ansem was the slaver who had taken Sora as a child. Images of running, of being thrown into the slave caravan, of being bought off in the dead of night by a flame-haired stranger who made him run for months – it all flooded him mind, taking the former dancer of guard in a staggering blow.

Seeing the understanding slowly grow upon his face, Ansem let out a small smirk, removing his hand from Kadaj's chest. "Do you understand it now? I don't usually brand my merchandise, but Riku here was a special case." A spark lit up his bottomless eyes as he noticed the faint scar tissue exposed from Sora's tunic. With the tiniest of movements, the collar of his cloak seemed to lift up on its own, exposing the scar he bore for the mage to see.

The small smirk turned into a menacing, threatening grin, his brilliant teeth seeming to glint dangerously in the waning light. "So, _you _were my toy? You were the one that escaped me?"

"Escaped?" Kadaj whispered. "But only one other person from Keep ever…" His closed eyelids seemed to disappear into gaping pools of nothingness as he furrowed his brows, trying to piece together the events which were taking place beyond his sightless frame.

In the blink of an eye, the space where Ansem had stood was filled with nothing but shadow, and suddenly a hand was upon Sora's throat. "You grew up prettily, _slave,_" the man whispered as he leaned close, his powerful grip tightening upon the other's skin. "You were a fool to leave. You never even got to experience living in my tower."

"You are sick," Sora cried through gritted teeth in retaliation. He held no memories of his time in the caravan, so no matter what this man did, he couldn't control the old dancer. "Just let us _go._"

"And have my two favourite toys leave me behind to find another master? No, I think not." To Sora's complete disgust and humiliation, the mage leaned forward, his sharp tongue flicking out past his lips and running along Sora's scar, the saliva turning into the same obsidian light which had shone upon Kadaj's chest. "You used to taste good, but now you're even better. Maybe I should just lock you up in Keep instead?"

At this, the former dancer shuddered and blanched, fear turning his very roots pale. What was the bastard talking about? "Don't say it," he hissed, but his voice was steadily rising into hysteria as he struggled to escape Ansem's hold. "Don't you dare say it. I was never yours. I never will be yours."

"You used to look so pretty when you screamed in pain."

With this, Kadaj let out an ear-splitting shriek as the truth finally dawned upon him, disgust rising like bile in his throat. It was okay if he was abused. It was okay no matter what Ansem did to him – he was used to it, after all. His touch was really all he had ever known, besides Sora's warmth.

But to think of Sora subjected to the same treatment was more painful than _anything. _

"Let him go," the blind boy sobbed, arms wrapped around himself in desperation. He was kneeling upon the ground in defeat, dead gaze downwards as fat teardrops rolled down his cheeks. The wails were loud, but choked – and, in between each indiscernible cry was a soft, "Let him go".

"Kadaj, don't-" Sora began, but then the silver-haired boy heard the snap of a finger, a soft cracking sound, and then a dull thud.

"Sora? Sora?"

With that, painfully familiar lips brushed against his ear, biting the lobe gently. "You've done well, my sweet," Ansem crooned gently. Hands wrapped themselves around his waist, almost in a friendly manner.

"Where's Sora? What did you do to him?" the boy shrieked, fighting his way out of the man's hold.

But Ansem was too strong with his power, and he was nothing. His breath ghosted the boy's skin for a few moments before he finally whispered, "I'll take you to him. Soiled little dolls should be thrown away completely, don't you think?"

Those same, familiar fingers which had once wrapped around his throat as empty threats closed off his oxygen all the way, and he felt himself being pulled under the blanket of darkness of which he had glimpsed so many times before at long last.

The figure stood upright, his long ebony cloak billowing behind him as clouds rolled over the path of the newly risen moon. With a small, relieved sigh, he tossed the limp object to the side and looked upon the pile of rubbish one last time.

"No one escapes me. They were pretty, but fortunately, there will be others. Keep will be filled again soon enough."

And with that, he snapped his fingers and disappeared into thin air, leaving nothing but a wisp of smoke and a hint of shadow trailing in the air behind him. The clouds parted for a moment, allowing the heart-shaped moon to peek through the thick blanket and fall upon the earth. Its brilliant rays exposed the plain, barely rippling water of the lake, a horse which pawed anxiously upon the ground, and, on the other side of the water, two crushed, mangled bodies strewn carelessly upon one another. The only visible radiance, the only visible hint of light coming from the two figures was the tiny hearts which shone upon their bodies – one, completely made of magic, and the other with the black power mingling with a puffy red scar, the essence freshly marked.

Their master's magic would soon fade away, but it didn't matter. He was already off to find another plaything, to lock within his Keep.

_And this one, _he reflected distantly, grinning in anticipation, _will _never _get out._

_fin_


End file.
